When my mother moved from Mt. Shasta (Northern California) to N. Las Vegas a year ago, she did so with a huge truck full of stuff. But prior to her move in mid-November '05, she spent a good month with two (almost daily) workers she'd hired to help her sort through her stuff. Those of you who were reading here then will remember that I spent my last Veteran's Day weekend in Mt. Shasta helping her finish that job in preparation for arrival of the movers. The amount of STUFF I found still be sorted through when I arrived was staggering, especially in light of the fact that there'd been three of them doing that for a whole month prior to that. One of those workers helped us that last weekend, and although she seemed like a nice person, I could tell when I arrived that her patience with my mother had expired. As a result, I think she might have taken a bit of advantage of my mother's vision disability to make some independent decisions about what to keep and what to toss. Because although my mother sold, gave away and tossed many books, I spotted a few in the toss pile that I don't think she would have thrown away. So I rescued a handful of old volumes. One of those is a 1945 illustrated edition of Andersen's Fairy Tales, a book I've never read. In fact, I hadn't even cracked it open until tonight. When my mother stayed with us over my Winter break last year, I showed her the books I'd rescued for her, assuming she'd want them. (It had been too stressful and emotional of a time to address that right before the movers came--I feared it would open a whole can of worms and we might end up going through the entire huge dumpster that was filled to overflowing.) She thanked me for saving them, but told me to just hang onto them. I doubt that she's read them; she probably picked them up because they seemed like collectibles.
Page 37 of Andersen's Fairy Tales lands in the story, "The Fir Tree." The tree wonders why other trees around him are being cut down and carted away. The sparrows report that they've seen the trees through windows of homes and that, "They are dressed up in the most splendid manner." The fir tree is fraught with longing, "I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me," thought the fir tree. He's urged to enjoy his life right where he is: "Rejoice with us," said the air and the sunlight. "Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air."
And that's exactly what I plan to do over the next few days. There's no school on Friday, and I may take Monday off, too. I emailed the district office yesterday to get current balances for all of my leave. I have almost 18 days worth of sick and personal leave stored up (up to six of those can be used as personal leave. I used one in September to attend the family wedding.) My salary is low, but we get a lot of leave: paid holidays, vacation (to be used for school breaks and still have some left over), sick and personal leave, and two days each year for "family illness." Know how many sick days I took last school year? Zero. They carry over from year to year, but I don't benefit from having them banked unless I leave the job and get paid for them, so I might as well use a few, don't you think? Everyone else utilizes their sick leave--why should I be the one who never misses a day of work?
Although this was a shortened work week, it was a busy one and I worked several extra hours. We had parent meetings on Monday and Tuesday nights, and I stayed an extra hour yesterday to have a serious discussion with a couple of colleagues after work before rushing home to get ready for my date with Kayla. I think I need to just rejoice in my own bright life for a bit.
I went to the food co-op this evening and filled our water bottles, and picked up some organic, free trade Guatamalan coffee beans from the Pachamama Coffee Co-Op (I can't get that farmer-owned co-op site to come up to link to it here) and Irish oatmeal. The weather has turned brisk, and I plan to spend my Friday holiday morning sitting in bed and reading my newspapers, with a tray of good coffee and oatmeal by my side. Then maybe I'll take the air and sunlight's words of advice to heart and venture out for a walk or bike ride. I urge you to take Hans Christian Andersen's words to heart, too: "Rejoice...Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air."
37 Days of the 37th Page for 37 Days Challenge
[And I won't forget why I've been given a holiday from work on Friday (even though the actual holiday falls on Saturday). My grandfather was a veteran of WWI. Although I vehemently oppose the war in Iraq, I have enormous respect and gratitude for the members of our military who offer up their lives every single day.]
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